


consume my mind

by sosojiwa



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Adolescent, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sexual Content, Sexual exploration, about a month?, i think thats decent, its still good though!!, ive been meaning to finish this forr, kinda gave up toward the end, okay i dont know how to tag this thing, uhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 04:27:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18336173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sosojiwa/pseuds/sosojiwa
Summary: in which melchior and moritz dabble once more in their natural, lustful desires. so basically, a repeat of what happened in touch me (this time, with a dash of teenage romantics!).





	consume my mind

**Author's Note:**

> hello my ao3 is crusty and dry take this Inappropriate piece!!! im really rusty with my nsfw writing so uh dont come for me if its bad
> 
> (p.s. be my friend on tumblr please — springbutsummer)

_ "Sixteenth December, _

_ The question is: longing. Why must one repress and choke back such human and natural desires as the simple yearning for the touch of a lover or one finds sweet attraction to? What is the origin of such idealisms and why must we obediently follow along and heed its call while so bitterly repressing the calls of our bodies? Should the boy repress his urge to explore the canvas of his developing body and resist the dripping temptations presented to him by the budding bosoms of the women; should the young maiden press her knees together in such chastity and act as if they do not wish to know about all of the enticingly venereal thoughts which encompass their minds as they begin to ripen in age? _

_ I think not, though the adults of this shambolic society have thoughts which contradict mine. Father Kaulbach blindly preaches what he and the others believe to be the gospel truth, the absolute almighty word of their Lord and all follow along so aimlessly to the words he utters and twist them around until they are distorted, shambled and unrecognizable beyond belief. In due to such seremons, the adults are all now so reluctant and hesitant in teaching the children they bore as to how they are to deal with such 'sinful' desires? To my humble mind, such foolish handling of important subject matters could result in rather unfathomable things happening to those they love when all is said and done. _

_ I consider myself to be lucky in the sense that Mama is much more relaxed in her own mind, and mayhaps she is the reason why my mind is so steadfast and much more open to such tantalizing subjects, though even she has yet to properly teach me such things herself. Even despite the fact she seldom makes appearances at the old church these days, she still skirts around the topic— such avoidances have led me to learn about these delicious desires through the means of olden books, and heavens, how enlightening has this experience been! The gentle peppering of kisses upon the smooth, palen skin of the youngest Bergmann sister coaxed such repressed feelings out of me and caused the most pleasant of awakenings and arousal from the depths of my soul— _

_ Even still, something within me felt as if it were incorrect for me to lay my calloused hand against her exposed bosom and lose myself in the excitement of deflowerment! Why is it that I found much more solace in running careful, calculated hands across the well-built, clothing-covered chest of another boy than I did the bare one of a woman? Mayhaps their God was wrong about yet another thing, for if it's deemed sinful for one man to engage in lustful actions with another, then why had it felt as if it were the natural thing to do? Why is it that I long for the reciprocation of his touch along my barren skin and experience the fleeting euphoria the stallion often feels but instead in regards for a male if such acts are considered to be wrong and endorsement of the Devil himself? _

_ Mayhaps one day, the eyes of this society will awaken and steady themselves with such newfound knowledge and begin to speak of things once considered unspeakable. The church congregation can stop blindly following in the word of the bible and the sermons of Father Kaulbach and realize that such human, such lascivious attractions and musings are nothing but normalities in our developing world? But for now, all that I can do is plead for such acceptance to happen, refuse to hear out the nonsense of the church and sort out these odd, enticingly arousing thoughts of Moritz which flicker through my mind." _

Melchior shut his journal with firm hands and haphazardly tossed it aside, finding himself caught in an aloof daze before glancing at the boy who had taken to pulling up a chair beside him and watching the clouds outside. He ignored the look of confusion he was met with and prayed to the stars that the noirette hadn’t bothered to glance over at his journal whilst he drew the short entry to its close and joined him in watching the sky, the normal fright which struck his being as he watched the rain fall in its violent sheets on days like these absent from his mind as he simply enjoyed the presence of his best friend. Time slowed and breathing hastened as they gazed out of the window and occasionally at one another, catching each other’s eye only once or twice, hurriedly glancing away in embarrassment in turn.

The world seemed to had slowed to a stop outside after a few minutes had passed them by, for the scene depicted outside was so beautifully tranquil that it nearly seemed surreal. The weather was still confused as to what it wanted to make of itself as the seasons begun to shift and sway, causing short storms that were volatile in their arrival and sunny days with temperatures that didn’t even cross the threshold of forty-five degrees. For now, it was the former, and the violent thunderstorm was beginning to dissipate and draw to its end, the evening birds beginning to rear their heads again and join the softened pitter-patter in a song more fit for spring than it was for late autumn.

The brunette cast a shy look over at his friend and sighed dreamily, for he found himself whisked away in such adoration for the boy. The muted rays of the sun illuminating the boy’s face with a soft grey light and made the intricate details which made up his face more pungent, from the pale freckles which danced chaotically across the bridge of his nose and the area beneath his eyelids to the way his thinned lips were raw and damp from how often he bit at the skin upon them; his chest was barren (the hour was beginning to draw late and the two of them sometimes slept with their shirts off if they found the air to be too humid) and bore the same light smattering of freckles, this time across his deep-set collarbones and shoulders— hell, Melchior could feel himself getting lost the longer he peered at the boy through his starry eyes.

He felt ugly beside Moritz, which was a considerably odd thought to have when essentially everybody within the town agreed that the brunette was the better looking boy between the two of them. Melchior never quite understood why that was the case, for he believed his appearance to be dull in every aspect imaginable, meanwhile Moritz bore an interestingly tall head of hair and a body lanky and willowy in it’s appearance on top of having posture which was often in a slumped position. Such features were unconventional and odd according to the beige societal views which detailed what the ideal male should look like, so he supposed that such intriguing features caused him to drastically pale in comparison to himself. 

Compliments began to fall short of reaching the boy's ears as the days drew by and he began to realize more and more startling things about himself and the world around them. The whispers of how scholarly he was began to seem manufactured and fake as his mind began to irrationalize them and break them down, twisting them every which way until they lost their value and appeared to be lies; compliments on how handsome he looked were rarely directed solely at him, rather, at the noirette beside him as a way to shame the boy for not having a conventional appearance like the rest of the children, and the brunette would begin to scowl and scoff at the perpetrator of such comments and reassure his friend's beauty.

Hazel eyes would always soften and sharp jaws would harden as the words reached his ears and shook him to his very core, undoubtedly wondering why he couldn't boast the same straightened posture, tame browned locks and intelligent brain as his friend at moments like those. Melchior could see the discontentment that lay behind his eyes in such moments, and almost always had to restrain himself from lashing out at the person who dared to say such a thing, instead choosing to hurriedly usher Moritz away while murmuring amorous nothings to restore his mood. 

Those same hazel eyes were still blankly staring off into the world just on the other side of the window, their owner caught amidst a sea of thought that Melchior would never have the pleasure to hear. The gentle pittering against the roof had continued to slow it’s pace until the droplets which splashed upon it grew few and far in between, the clouds beginning to drift away to reveal the slowly setting sun in all of its glory. While the sight of the outside world was beautiful, he found the sight beside him to be a much more breathtaking spectacle.

“What are you thinking about?”

The question arose softly into the air and lingered there for but a moment, the boys turning to face one another with star-struck gazes. The noirette had seemed to be taken aback by the question, though his face was scribbled in a pinky blush now as he scrambled to gather his thoughts and form the words, mouth slightly ajar as he waited for his voice to find him. A chuckle bubbled in Melchior’s throat at the sight of the boy being caught in such a daze, a dainty little smile dancing across his face now as he absentmindedly began to count the dots splashed across the boy’s face.

“Would it be odd if I said you?” replied the noirette with the clear of his throat, a shameful look tainting his features now. A wave of relief washed over the brunette, though a wave of fear accompanied it— what if he had been thinking of all the trivial little things which composed his person? What if he were silently judging him for the way he sat with his chest jutting out slightly from the rest of his body and the way his left brow would always shoot upwards whenever intrigued or bemused by something? What if Moritz had been sitting there that entire thing thinking of how much he had absolutely despised him, while he— 

“I’ve been thinking of the way we had dabbled into such taboo territory, Melchi. It still doesn’t sit right with me, for father warns me against feeling such venereal emotion toward another man, saying God would punish me for such thoughts. It still seems like it was all a dream, for why did it feel so heavenly if it were considered to be undoubtedly and entirely wrong? Even still, less ribald venturing into the depths of my body feel so sinful, even if it's merely myself stroking my length!” continued the boy, notes of confusion, fright and desperation now found within his voice. The brunette bit his lip as the words began to crack down on him and truly register with his mind, vaguely aware of how intently he was being watched.

Melchior's brow instinctively quirked up in it's usual inquisitive manner, having found himself intrigued by the confessions that the other had spilled out into the air. "Are you implying that you haven't dared to properly give yourself release since that night because society warns you that it's wrong? Moritz, you cannot simply just deny your body of it's desires and cravings— do not let such barbaric ways of thinking get to you, Moritz!" The words flowed freely from the lips of the brunette, the pitch of his voice slightly higher than it normally was as he preached the word of his mind. He opened his mouth to continue on, but before he could do so, the noirette began to speak again.

“Don’t play me for a fool, Melchi! Of course I’ve been inclined to touch myself more as these dreams have only grown more bizarre and more powerful in their intensity, but I just can't wrap my mind around how this must be natural if it feels absolutely incorrect? I believe you with my whole heart, Melchi, but there is still the part of me that wonders why I found your touch to be so exhilarating— even with all of the supposed sinful annotations surrounding it!— while that of my own to be lacking! My own touch, still gets the job done, so fret not as to whether or not I am giving my body release.” A sigh fell from his lips as his words lingered in the air, the teasingly said sentence at the end failing to quell the subtle tension rising in the room.

Melchior fiddled with his thumbs as he pondered over what was just told to him, the tips of his ears dusted over in a pale pink as less-than appropriate thoughts began to blossom in his mind. While he felt somewhat accomplished and prideful in the fact that he had managed to do good by the noirette in their little ‘study session’ from two months ago, and happy with how he had been able to teach him how to properly deal with the sexual frustrations looming his mind, he couldn't help but feel a tad bit embarrassed. He supposed that after being enlightened to the touch of another, touching those same areas yourself would never feel the same— but  _ hell,  _ the fact Moritz found their experience together to be unbelievably wonderful was spinning his mind.

Perhaps it was because the brunette never thought it to be possible to have such feelings be reciprocated, especially in a man. It was different, he knew, with Wendla, as he was somewhat aware of how all of the girls would frolic through the fields with flowers woven in their locks, his name hot on their lips as they gushed over which of them would marry him first. It was different with her because he was already  _ aware _ that she felt such emotion toward him (though he doubted as to whether or not her attraction had sexual strings attached to it)— he supposed that there was just something much more enthralling about being the one captivated by the stallion instead of the one being gazed so gloriously upon.

_ (Or maybe it was because it was just so gratifying to him to know that he was the phantasm of his friend's dreams.) _

He slaved over rationalizing such an equation long enough for Moritz to meekly speak up again, a note of desperation found in his voice as he spoke. "Melchi, I hadn't meant to, uh, shy you away from the conversation? I apologize, really! I'm just all too curious now about… everything, really! It just felt so marvelous to feel what the woman must feel, especially at the hands of you? Truly, that must have been what heaven felt like!" A hushed prayer for forgiveness rushed from his lips soon after, eyes slightly widened as he began to think of the repercussions he would face in the afterlife in due to such thinking. A chuckle bubbled in the depths of the brunette’s throat at such a sight— forgiveness for such sins, undoubtedly, would’ve been ruled out a while ago.

“With any luck, he’ll ignore that prayer,” replied Melchior in a teasingly soft voice, the scene beginning to parallel that of a few months prior. He cleared his throat before continuing on, voice serious now as he turned to meet the gaze of the noirette, “Dearest Moritz, fret not, for attractions that feel so frustratingly natural musn’t be wrong— in fact, I’ve been musing upon such topics myself recently. There cannot be any sin in an act that feels so right, no matter how inappropriate and wrong the adults of our society deem them to be— wait, did you say you enjoyed feeling what the woman would feel because of me?”

Hesitance. “Yes.”

“Really?" A suggestive smile was now on full display on his face, and he found himself to be fully delighted in the way the noirette's face erupted into an embarrassed splay of reds and pinks as their gazes finally met. "Because I much enjoyed it myself, and if you keep thinking of that night, then perhaps it would do the both of us well to relive the memory.”

“God, I thought you’d never ask,” Moritz whispered, the timid expression which had blossomed on his face melting away into a face of shock as the brunette had suddenly leaned into him and captured his lips in a kiss that was much too chaste for the moment. Their lips had brushed together for but a second, yet, they both felt as if they had reached some unknown level of euphoria in that small moment. Melchior, unsurprisingly, had the widest grin on his face after he pulled away, his mind racing in a million different directions as he began to realize that he’d be able to once more tread these tantalizing waters and explore them in full— that excited him, even more now that they had seemed to share the same train of thought.

Now, a startled sound rung out in the air in due to the brunette’s surprise at how the noirette had pulled them back into a kiss, this time needy and desperate. It was as if these feelings of lust had some underlying hope of romantics (a thought that Melchior was too afraid to dwell upon for fear he was merely imagining reciprocation that didn't exist), and  _ fuck _ , it was so unbelievably intoxicating to the younger boy. The sensation was much unlike any other he had experienced in the fourteen years he had lived, and he couldn’t help but lean into the kiss and further it along, the moment too good to pass up and much too wonderful to waste.

He was lightheaded and euphoric once they broke apart from another yet again, face breaking out in a contagiously giddy grin that soon mirrored itself on Moritz’ face. “Oh, Melchi, I hadn’t a clue that kissing you would feel that fulfilling! I’d be entirely content just spending the rest of my days entertwined with you…”

“But alas, that’s not the purpose of tonight, hum? Sit on the edge of the bed.”

Obediently, Moritz scrambled to his feet and made his way to the disheveled bed, mouth slightly agape and swollen and hazel eyes darkened with lust, choosing not to comment on the blush that had spread across Melchior’s face in response to his comment. The brunette stared at him for a moment, pleased, before he walked over to the bed, though he paused before the noirette instead and sunk onto his knees with a lazy smile, “I’m going to make you feel absolutely heavenly tonight, dearest, so fret not as to whether or not I myself am pleased. Tonight is all about you.”

“Oh, God.”

He chuckled at that response, bringing bruised hands to the boy’s legs and gently spreading them apart, soon taking to the mundane, yet erotic, task of running them across the length of his thighs and occasionally giving them a little squeeze. The look of bliss that had settled over Moritz’ face was a reward itself, from the way his lips were suspended as his breathing was ragged and harsh in due to the stimulation to the way his eyelids had drooped down and hooded half of his darkened eyes. He looked like a hero of an old Greek epic, one with such bold and unique features that rendered him nothing short of handsome to the trained eye, and that was the only way Melchior could describe the boy in that very moment— handsome.

The brunette was growing aware of how the boy’s figure began to quiver (was his body really  _ that  _ unaccustomed to touch?) and the bulge that was beginning to appear in his crotch area. Teasingly, he ran his hand across it and gave it a gentle squeeze, his heart fluttering in his chest at the low, guttural sound that elicited from the noirette. A quiet whisper for more caused him to bite his lip and repeat the series of actions, though much slower this time. The noise that rose into the air now was a lot breathier and elongated, a sound so sinful that the brunette’s breath hitched for but a moment. 

Soft pleading for release, for more, for  _ him _ soon followed, and Melchior was more than happy to oblige such requests, dutifully straightening himself up and inching closer to Moritz. He crept a careful hand up the boy’s thigh until he reached his crotch once more and palmed him through the material of his pants, stopping as soon as the whines which slipped from the noirette’s lips grew much too hurried and pleasured for his tastes. Fumbling with the buttons which kept the trousers secure for but a moment, he began to drag them down his legs until they pooled at the bottom of his ankles and were then kicked off onto the floor.

After doing the same with his undergarments, a smirk played at his lips at the sight of his erection, “Moritz, if you’re uncomfortable with anything I do—“

“God, no! You’re magnificent, Melchior!” interrupted Moritz rather adamantly, offering him hazy smile to reinforce such a thought. Pleased with such a fact (and rather joyous that he had thought so), Melchior continued with his work, snaking a hand up the boy’s bare thigh before taking his length into his hand and giving it one broad stroke. He could feel him shiver and writhe at the sensation, the situation they found themselves in seeming so familiar yet foreign no matter how they tried to spin it, though they were both much too immersed in the other to even begin to allow their minds to veer off the devious course they were on.

With a steady, slow hand, Melchior continued to relieve his best friend through such motions, absolutely reveling in the way he so intently stared down at him through such lustful eyes and the sound of the groans he so desperately tried to hold back. “Do delight me in a thought,” the brunette had murmured before hastening his pace so suddenly that the other had let out a sharp gasp which was quickly turned into a noise of question, “Do you dream of me?”

“H-How do— oh,  _ God,  _ just like that, Melchi—!”

His desperate pants came to a halt and were replaced by a sudden, hoarse cry of pleasure flying from his lips and the bucking of his hips as he reached his climax. Silent curses continued to spill from his lips as Melchior eased him down from his high, his grip and pace slackening as his hand became covered in the aftermath of their little expedition. An innocent smile was now painted on the brunette’s face now as he eased his hand off of and away from his best friend’s cock, uncaringly wiping away the sticky residue on his hand onto his leg.

“I mean, am I the phantasm that haunts your dreams at night? Am I the ghoul in the stockings who arouses you so, Moritz?” He prodded, awkwardly scooting away from the boy and standing (he had worked himself up during the ordeal, too, and had to be mindful of his own body) before plopping down on the bed beside him with a small, yet content sigh. The things he had been wondering about and attempting to sort out for weeks now had all seemed clear and aligned now, his ponderings could finally be answered and put to rest, another silly theorem presented by Kaulbach could rest debunked in his journal, and he could finally have some sort of closure on these odd feelings he held toward his best friend.

“Would it be odd if I said yes? I mean, I’ve dreamt of feeling your hands trail along the more intimate parts of my body ever since that night, and you haven’t a clue as to just how wonderful it is to have finally had these dreams fulfilled! You were even more lovely than I had hoped,” replied Moritz in a tender tone, pressing a chaste kiss to the brunette’s cheek before bashfully turning his gaze to the floor.

“I, uh, think I love you— and I think I’d like you to continue.”

**Author's Note:**

> i thrive for comments and kudos :) thanks for reading !!
> 
> and yeah, i eat sleep and breathe writing melchior. he’s my favourite ugh i could write an entire thing where its just pov through his journal like UGH


End file.
